


Charlie, Charlie, are you there?

by cybergirl614



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath, Angst, Case Fic, Charlie Are You There, Friendship, Future Fic, Gen, Ghost Charlie, Ghost Hunters, Ghost Summoning Game, Ghosts, Haunting, Humor, Meme, Meme inspired, Nobody Stays Dead on Supernatural Or in My Fanfics, Possibly crack?, Season/Series 10 Spoilers, Star Trek References, Tags Are Hard, Tags Contain Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:21:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4023121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybergirl614/pseuds/cybergirl614
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The brothers unexpectedly spot a suspiciously familiar ghost in a viral video.</p><p>-On hiatus, if you want it let me know-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is on an indefinite hiatus, and possibly up for adoption if someone likes it and will finish it for me. I have a problem with plot bunnies which means a lot of my stories go unfinished. So if you'd like it to take it over, email me here: cybergirl8614@yahoo.com

“Hi, I’m Katie,” said one girl into the camera before her friend, a brunette ducked into the frame.

“And I’m Lyrica,” she supplied.

“And we’re going to see if there’s a ghost in here!” 

 

They shuffled about a bit before the frame settled on the tabletop, where the folded paper and pencils were laid out like a dial on a grid of ‘yes’ and ‘no.’ A few distorted staticy words passed as they readjusted the camera.

“Charlie, Charlie, are you there?” They finished the chant.

The teenage girls squealed as the pencil spun where it lay on the piece of paper, before it stilled, landing on yes.

 

“Oh my god, OH MY GOD!” screamed the blond, Katie, while the brunette beside her scoffed.

“Really, I told you it’s just a thing to do with the and gravity and imperfect balance making it spin. This is stupid, it’s gonna be just like ever other video up on youtube,” Lyrica scoffed as she folded her arms.

 

“No, it’s not, oh—oh holy crap, it’s….it’s moving!” Katie shouted as the pencil began to move off of the balance point of the other one, hovering in the air shakily as it did so. 

“It’s MOVING! IT’S---“ The Katie shrieked again, while Lyrica just stared, mouth agape.

“That’s impossible, there's no reason for it to be moving—“ Lyrica protested.

 

“Oh my god, oh my god!” Katie chanted, “It’s—“

 

“Writing!” They both shouted at once.

And sure enough, it was. The pencil was slowly tracing letters onto the paper, first a W then an H, and….. The camera was shaking as the girls screamed again, the frame panning to shaky images of the ceiling and floor as the sound of footsteps pounding. 

 

Sam leaned back in his seat, the video over. It was posted to KatieandLyrica15’s youtube channel. 

He clicked the back button, to the news article, which contained a picture of the paper and the finished writing. “What’s up, bitches?” 

“Hey, Dean? I think we might have just found a case,” Sam called. 

“Yeah? What’s this?” he asked, coming to stand behind his brother. Sam scrolled to the news clip again, where the reporter explained, “There’s a ritual children around the country have picked up, seeking to ask if a ghost is present. Two local girls, now star of their own viral video, got a bit more than they bargained for.” 

Then the original video replayed. 

“So what did it write?” Dean asked, Sam shushing him as the clip continued.

“The words on the page they discovered were much more direct an answer than they’d anticipated.” the news anchor continued, and the screen flashed to the photo of the page. 

 

The clip ended there, Dean giving a low whistle. “You don’t think…”

“I don’t know, Dean. I mean, we did everything right. Full hunter’s funeral, yeah? Unless there was some reason she stuck around...“

“Well,” Dean said after a moment’s pause, “There’s one way to find out.”


	2. Chapter 2

The ride had been long and mostly quiet except for radio news reports Dean checked periodically between classic rock tapes.  What they were listening for, Sam wasn't sure anymore.  Keep up with the world as it goes to worse-than-hell in a handbasket?  Something like that. Thus, they were out on the way back from what had been a routine salt and burn. They'd been pretending that killing those singular monsters did any good. One less monster...right?   They'd set off from the site of the last case for the motel he'd tracked the story down to since at the moment there wasn't much else they could do.  And who knew, maybe while they were out this way they'd find something that could help.

 

Maybe? The chances seemed to grow more and more remote with each passing day.   In eliminating the Mark, they'd opened a whole new can of awful, one they didn't have the slightest how to fight, and there was no denying it.

 

They approached the motel sign slowly, a weight settling in Sam’s stomach. They hadn’t been back here in months. Not since…since the Stein brother had gutted her in the bathroom. Sam shifted uncomfortably, Dean’s behavior mirroring the attitude he held, Sam could tell, because Dean was restlessly flipping channels on the radio, trying not to talk, trying not to look at Sam, although Sam could see him stealing glances in the mirror.

“Dude,” Sam groaned. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” Dean replied defensively.

“Pretending….nothing. It’s… God. I can’t believe we’re back here, and I can’t believe…”

“What? That she’s dead? Well she’s been dead for two freaking months, Sammy. This doesn’t change anything.” Dean said as he pulled into a parking space in front of the suspect motel room.

“I—I know.” Sam sighed. “I know. But… we have to figure out what it is that’s keeping her here. I mean it’s pretty much bound to be her…”

“Yeah, considering this is the place? I don’t see who else it is.”

 

“So, then. We gonna do this or what?” Dean spoke up as Sam paused.

“Yeah. Guess so.” Sam said, blinking as he tried to clear whatever anticipation there was.

Dean got out quickly and had duffle with their shotguns with salt rounds, holy water, a tire iron in hand. Sam took one of the guns Dean handed him, nodding as he pulled out their EMF detector.

“OK, so this is it I guess…” Sam shrugged.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, his face falling as they approached the door to the room.

Dean knocked loudly, declaring, “Maintenance, open up!”

No one answered, prompting Sam to get to work with his lock pick set.

A few moments later, as he put his tools away in his pocket, the door swung open.

Dean shouldered his shotgun, and went in first.

Sam followed, EMF detector in one hand, gun in the other.

“Hello?” He called out cautiously as Dean flipped on the lights.

He moved towards the bathroom and then the EMF detector alerted to increased activity.

“Whoah, Dean, check out this side of the room, it’s eaten up.”

“Well that kinda makes sense, that’s where—“

Dean trailed off when the lights snapped off.

“Oh, crap…” he mumbled, brandishing the gun. Sam braced at the ready too, the detector in his hand now screaming the presence of overwhelming levels of disturbance.

The air grew cold around them, their breaths coming out in large white puffs in the dim room.

Sam spoke up first. “Hello? Is anybody—“

They both flinched when the shadowy shape began to materialize. Dean nervously cocked the gun.

“Hey, who’s there?” An anxious voice called.

Sam sighed. “Charlie? Is that you?” A smile broke his face as he looked at Dean, beaming.

“Sure is, in the, well, not-so-flesh,” She said, laughing. “I mean, really, you have no idea how good it is to see you. I’ve been going frakking crazy with nothing to do around here!”

“Ch—Charlie?” Dean said hesitantly. “Look, you—you realize—“

“What? I’m a ghost?” She rolled her eyes, giving an exasperated shrug to the brothers. “I kind of noticed. You can give a girl some credit.”

 

“OK. That’s, that’s good, I guess,” Sam said, lowering his gun as he relaxed.

“Well, that might depend just a teensy bit on your definition of good,” Charlie replied thoughtfully.

“Yeah, so, uh, Charlie, how’ve you been?” Dean continued lamely.

“Alright I suppose. It’s mostly very, veeeery boring around here. I don’t even have a computer,” she complained in a playful voice. “I mean I did figure out how to control my phase shift so I can move objects. First thing I tried when I figured that out was the phone, but it's broken. i tried leaving a note for maintenance but they quit coming around after the video hit the air. I did have a liiiiittle too much fun scaring those girls. And then there's been some teenagers trying to break in. They boarded the window after the last time somebody threw a brick. But besides that it's been mostly quiet. I've been glad I at least I chose a motel room with cable to die in. They do get BBC America. I’ve been watching Doctor Who and Star Trek reruns lately. I have some wicked ideas for crossovers. Enough that I'll run out of room to write on the wall soon." She jerked a thumb at the wall where there were indeed scribbles of pencil. The brothers hummed noncomittally at this, so she continued. " Although… the whole ’live long and prosper’ thing—“ she did the hand symbol as she spoke with a wry grin, “Doesn’t have quite the same ring to it when you’re, yknow, dead.” She made a face at the last word.

Sam’s face fell. “I—I’ve wanted to say, Charlie, I am so, so sorry. I never meant for—“

 

“No, no-no-no-no, Sam,” Charlie gushed, moving forwards to put an ephemeral hand on his shoulder. She shifted towards solid, smiling at him as she hugged him. “Please don’t do this. It was not your fault, OK? I chose this. I chose to help you. Dean—Dean, before you say anything, you’re worth it, OK? I knew the risks going in. And judging by the fact you’re here, I’ll take we did remove the Mark, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, you did,” Dean said quietly, his voice somber as he rolled up his sleeve to show her. “But I wish, I wish _all of you_ had not gone out there behind my back like that. ” His voice rose as it hitched with emotion, anger making it harsh as the last words flew out.

 

“Dean?” Charlie let go of Sam, and moved to the older hunter. “I’m sorry I died. I’m sorry you guys had to come get my body. I—I assume you burned me?” She nodded when she saw their frowns and looks of confusion and nods. “But that does not mean you get to blame yourself. Or Sam. You—you haven’t been blaming him, have you?”

Dean frowned, his face crumpling with shame as he looked back at Charlie. “I—I said some things. Did some things,” he replied slowly, honesty raw in his voice.

“Did some things?” Sam scoffed. “He went to Louisana and killed every member of the Stein family. And then— “

“So what if I did? They’re not killing anybody else. Ever.” Dean confirmed.

Noting Sam’s uncomfortable expression, Charlie took it as a sign that it hadn’t been so simple or so easy a task.

“This was…before you got rid of the Mark? Because—why do I get the feeling there was more to this than that? And…y’know I haven’t been living under a rock, even as a ghost. It’s sounded like there’s some weird stuff up. CNN was talking about these giant black cloud things that made it so it was night for days. Cattle deaths, locust swarms, riots and murder mobs, the Mississippi turning to blood. I assume you guys have tabs on all this?”

**Author's Note:**

> This is on an indefinite hiatus, and possibly up for adoption if someone likes it and will finish it for me. I have a problem with plot bunnies which means a lot of my stories go unfinished. So if you'd like it to take it over, email me here: cybergirl8614@yahoo.com
> 
> So this was inspired by the recent trend of the 'Charlie are you there' game thing. I immediately thought of SPN because, really, I don't know any Charlies IRL and in the show, Charlie recently having died. Then there was this fantastic meme to that effect and I couldn't resist. At all.
> 
> Meme that inspired this can be found here:
> 
> https://www.facebook.com/388172791343779/photos/a.388268934667498.1073741829.388172791343779/456462001181524/?type=1&theater


End file.
